Blood Ties
by writeafic
Summary: Felicity Smoak just wanted to save her brother's life but ended up in bed with the Russian mob.
1. Chapter 1

Felicity Meghan Smoak could count on her left hand the number of times she had been in trouble. There was sixth grade when she had been busted for a bit of online deviance. Then seventh grade, when her tongue had run away from her and she had called Stacy Darrow a conniving cunt and then had tried to make up for it with a flushed face and rambling half assed apologies. There was the single time she had been picked up for shoplifting in the ninth grade. But it had been a jar of peanut butter and the officer in charge had let her go and instead had taken her brother and her out for pizza. Then there was the one occasion she had ran away from home but it didn't last long, as she couldn't bear to leave her brother behind. Then there was that one time, a few years ago, when she had been arrested and actually booked for assault after a bar brawl that her childhood best friend had instigated. Caitlin had always been a bit reckless anyway. Anyhow, It was normally her brother in this sort of predicament.

Roy had just turned seventeen, had an attitude for days, and frequently ran through the Glades like it was his own misdemeanor mischief playground instead of, well, the Glades. And the past week and a half had showed her that her brother was going to end up in world of hurt or a world of trouble if he didn't get his act together. So being the big sister that she was, she had taken it upon herself to right her brother's wrongs and save him alive. She wasn't at all sure how this would play out. Not that she was expecting much. When Roy had told her that he had stolen some girl's purse she had understandably been pissed. Because there was a big difference from shoplifting and petty theft to rushing up on a girl and stealing her designer and goodie filled handbag. Secondly, as having been mugged before she couldn't believe her brother would do something like that to somebody. Yeah, they had it hard. And it had been that way their entire life but that didn't excuse Roy's behavior and his attitude. And it had only gotten worse when word got out that the chick he had robbed had been none other than Thea Merkulov. And when said word got around, what she really meant was that Roy's good friend Sin had warned them that the chick he had robbed was Thea Merkulov.

Roy had dropped that bomb over a bowl of cereal like it was nothing. When she knew on the inside he was freaking out. He had to be freaking out. He had better be freaking out. There weren't too many people in Starling City, and there was absolutely no one in The Glades, who didn't know who Thea was. And if you were going to rob someone, you probably shouldn't rob the daughter of the head of the west coast Russian mob. So, in her rush to save her brother's life, Felicity went to her mom's closet and grabbed the tight, red, backless mini dress, donned her best pair of heels, swapped her glasses for contacts, curled her hair, and headed to the warehouse district. After a cocktail, or two, of liquid courage she told the bartender who her brother was. And that was how she ended up here, sitting next to Tommy Merkulov. A flirtatious, mouthy, charming drunk. Who also happened to be Thea Merkulov's older brother. She kept telling herself to remain composed as she avoided the stare of Thea's other brother Oliver Queen.

"So, I heard _your_ brother robbed _my_ sister," Tommy said on a slur, with a smile, while tossing back another shot, "So I'm assuming that's why you got all dressed up and came down to my club."

"Well, that's like one of the reasons. I mean, it is the main reason," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on Tommy. From the corner of her eye she saw Oliver lean forward in her chair as she started talking, "Because, this is a nice club. Or so I've heard. I've never been here before. Partying sloppy drunk isn't really my thing," she laughed nervously, sparing a glance at the guys in suits who were standing, as if they were on guard, the party lights catching a glint of metal in the unbuttoned suit jacket of that one guy. Oh God, was that a gun? Feeling her palms sweat she immediately turned back to Tommy. Taking in his deceptively goofy expression, Felicity was suddenly able to silently articulate that she was in a locked room with a group of big men she did not know. A group of scary big men she did not know. A group of armed and dangerous scary big men she did not know. And because now she was even more nervous she just kept talking.

"Not that you like sloppy drunks or that you are a sloppy drunk. Because I have no idea how much you drink besides the couple of shots you've downed in like the last five minutes," Tommy's smile faded and a dark look ran across his face. Felicity reached out to apologetically touch his shoulders but then retracted and leaned away from him instead, her eyes flitting between the brothers. "Not that it's a judgment. Because I try not to judge people who can make me disappear. Which is why, I'm-. This isn't about me, it's about my…brother. And so…Yeah, I'm sorry. I babble when I get nervous."

Tommy sat his shot down on the table next to him and leaned around her to talk to his brother, in what she assumed to be Russian. Tommy did most of the talking, Oliver's responses were mostly just head nods and what seemed like terse replies in her opinion. Not that she could be sure. But something between the two of them had been decided. If Oliver taking another gulp of his drink, leaning back against the expensive couch, and throwing his arm across the back of it was any indication. He stared at her again before slowly drawing his eyes from the toes of her heels to her widened eyes. Felicity felt goosebumps appear atop her goosebumps because even if he had only just looked at her, it had felt like he had touched her. When he spoke to Tommy, again in Russian, he kept his eyes on her. His voice was slow, smooth, languid, and the timbre of it tinged with a bored annoyance. She jumped a bit, startled when everyone else in the room laughed at whatever he had said. She was unsure how anything said in that tone of voice could be thought of as funny. She was sure they were all ragging on the blonde girl who looked like a deer in headlights. Her heartbeat increased and the thought that she might die whispered across the forefront of her brain for a minute…or two. Thoughts of her impending doom were cut short when Tommy got up, to pour himself another drink. In his gray suit, he was a handsome devil, charming, and approachable. He leaned against the wall, sipping his drink, and staring up at Felicity through long dark eyelashes

"Look gorgeous, I love my sister. Always have. So, you can understand how ticked off I might be if she's walking, minding her own business, and some asshole steals from her. I don't even have words for how livid my father was. And _my_ brother, well…Oliver has a tendency not to use his words. However, I can see that you love your brother and that's the reason you're in my club rambling like a nervous twit. What I need to know is how much do you love your brother."

Eyebrows furrowing, Felicity bravely snuck a peek at Oliver again. He looked like Russian mafia she thought. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit and a collared white shirt. He swirled his drink in his hand and offhandedly took a sip. Even though he looked completely disinterested, his jaw was tense and she noticed that the thumb and forefinger of his right hand were rubbing against each other, like a twitch almost. He caught her staring at him and he smirked, tilting his head before saying something in Russian again. Her eyes bounced back and forth between the brothers as they spoke and bit her tongue to keep herself from interjecting.

"Miss Smoak," Tommy began, "my brother says your brother is blessed to still be breathing. And if you want him to stay that way we need something from you."

Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear ran up Felicity's spine and she shivered. She wasn't sure what she possibly had to offer but she knew it wasn't anything good. Worst case scenarios were plowing through her mind at rapid speed and death seemed like a viable alternative to most of them. Suddenly, in that dress, she felt far from confident and closer to exposed. And with every second that passed it was becoming abundantly clear that mercy for her idiot kid brother wouldn't be achieved simply by her doe eyed pleas and anxious ramblings. Deep down she had known she would have to exchange something but in her haste, she hadn't given any thought to what that might be. How far was she willing to go to see this through? She was almost ashamed to be asking herself that. Because her family was everything to her.

Felicity had never really known her father. He had left right before her sixth birthday and she didn't remember much about him. Just that he was smart. Roy's dad hadn't even stuck around long enough to know that Donna, their mother, was even pregnant. Their mom had done the best she could with what she was but it was Felicity who was always making sure they had basic food instead of stale bread, Felicity who reminded Donna that bills were due on the 1st and 15th of every month. With a vapid and somewhat clueless, but loving and amiable, mother who was a beauty school dropout turned stripper turned cocktail waitress, Felicity had spent most of her childhood watching out for her little brother. Some would even say that she had even been more of a mother. They had moved back to Donna's hometown of Starling when she was in junior high. While Donna floated from loser to loser to loser, guys that simply showed her children all the ways a man can fail, Felicity worked her butt off at school. She was determined not to end up like her mother and by the time she was nineteen, she was on scholarship at SCU as a computer science major. And just when her life had finally looked like it was headed in the right direction, her mom had hooked up with another major loser. Except this time she had been caught mulling drugs for him. Donna got sentenced to fourteen months, which left no one to look after an 11-year-old Roy. So, Felicity did what any other sister would have done. She left school to work full time and take care of her brother. Before she knew it, she was twenty-five. Twenty-five, unemployed, sleeping on her mom's couch, and wearing her mom's dress while she sat in a club and worried about drying at the hands of the Russian mob. This decision had been born out of the fact that she had been taking care of everything and everybody her whole life. So how far was she willing to go? And the answer was simple. As far as was necessary.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, resigning herself to her fate. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, bent over to pour herself a shot, leaned back against the leather sofa and coyly looked over her shot glass at both brothers. Then she asked, "What do you need me to do?" Tommy laughed. Oliver didn't. He gave a quick nod and she watched all the big, scary, armed and dangerous guys file out of the room. She threw her shot back and fought the urge to roll her eyes when he spoke in Russian again. It was unnerving that he refused to speak English to her.

"We heard you're pretty talented with a computer," Tommy said, catching her so off guard that she actually choked on her second shot. She sputtered, reaching for a napkin and dabbing at her mouth, her bright red lipstick leaving its mark on the pristine cloth. Her eyebrows furrowed and she cleared her throat before speaking.

"Yeah…"

"Good," he said, turning to his brother to say something in Russian. He sat his drink down on the table in front of her and made a show of checking his cuff links and the buttons on his jacket, "We have in our possession a thumb drive that we need you to recover data from."

"What?"

This was not what she was expecting. As shocked as she was, she couldn't help but to feel relief sink into her bones. This was so much better than what she thought she was going to offer up.

"Calm down Miss Smoak," Tommy continued, "We know you're a hacker. Don't bother to deny it, your juvie file says otherwise. If you cooperate you'll live, your brother will live, and you can go on with your life as if this was all just a giant misunderstanding. But if you don't…well, I don't really have to state the obvious do I Miss Smoak," he asked, picking up the glass bottle of expensive alcohol and leveling her with a look that was just as serious as it was entertained. When she shook her head no, he simply saluted his brother and left the room. The blonde spared Oliver a glance. He was still staring at her, sitting in his chair, looking both curious and condescending.

"Um…so," she began, popping her lips and looking around the room quizzically. And once she worked up enough nerve to speak, even with the alcohol, he stood up from his chair and walked across the room. She followed his stride, noting how tall and imposing he was, still staring when he stopped after reaching the door.

"Are you coming Miss Smoak?"

Stunned by the lilt of his voice more than the fact that he had actually spoken, she blinked. Her mouth opening and closing before she could deliver a quiet mumble. She stood slowly from the couch, stumbling in her heels as she approached. Wincing a bit as he eyed her uncoordinated feet. When she reached him, he didn't open the door like she thought he would have. Instead he reached out, threw his arm around her waist, yanked her towards him, and absorbed her gasp of shock with his mouth. His hand came up to cup her neck, the hold almost bruising. And the kiss was hard. Rough. Wait a second, was he kissing her? Was she kissing him back? That was not her hand clutching to the back of his neck. She did not make that sound. That was not his hand squeezing her so hard she felt like she couldn't breathe. Wait, wait, wait- what is happening here? He pulled away first, hands coming up to hold her jaw in place as his eyes roamed over her face. He said something in Russian again, then he took her hand in his, opened the door and led her out of the room, down the stairs, through the club, past the intoxicating gyrating bodies and the ear-piercing sound of the drum beat, and out the front door where Starling City's elite were coming in and out of the doors and camera flashes were going off. He stopped in front of a motorcycle before handing her a helmet. He still didn't speak as he started the engine but he didn't have to. She climbed on behind him, clutching him as he took off. She didn't know where he was taking her but she knew that she was going to kill Roy.


	2. Chapter 2

She hadn't been prepared for coffee to turn into the Spanish Inquisition. But Caitlin wasn't having it. And not that she could really blame her best friend, two weeks later and she was still sort of jumpy. Not that anyone could blame her for her slight paranoia. Taking a sip of her coffee but yearning for a glass of wine, Felicity tried to find the words to tell her best friend to stay out of it. Not that she really had much hope that she would succeed. Caitlin had never been able to stay out of anything. Not ever since Arielle Richmond had called the new girl out in front of the cafeteria for being a "socially awkward nerdy porky little mouse". Caitlin had taken it upon herself to be Felicity's best friend. And the relationship had just kind of stuck.

"I thought we were best friends," Caitlin exclaimed over her large iced mocha, gesturing wildly across the table at Felicity.

"Yeah…and normally I would be telling. But…this, I mean, c'mon—I mean, look, with things being the way that they are I just think it's best that I keep this to myself."

She couldn't bear to tell her that Oliver Queen had all but informed her of what would happen if she didn't keep it to herself. And she would be an idiot not to be terrified of his warning. But she couldn't tell Caitlin that. It just seemed way too mobster. Dear God, her life had become a telenovela.

"Felicity, you left Verdant on the back of Oliver Queen's motorcycle two weeks ago. And Roy is still alive so…"

It was amazing how fast word of mouth went through the Glades. Roy had been livid when he had found out she had gone to Verdant. He had demanded she tell him what he was doing there. And her brother, despite him being seventeen and knowing she had changed his diapers, could be rather imposing when he set his mind to it. She had spilled that night's events to him in her typical nerve wrecked rambling fashion. He had called her stupid and self-righteous before telling her that he loved her and how grateful he was. They had then both agreed not to tell their oblivious mother. Thinking of her brother, she shot the bubbly young woman sitting across from her a look begging her to keep her composure.

"Could you not say that so loudly," she asked, lovingly smacking black painted nails out of the air. Tugging on her ponytail and closing her eyes behind her glasses, the blonde tried to concentrate. Tried to find words to make her bestie understand, "Look, Caitlin, I love you. You know how much I love you but we need to forget about all of this. Please, for the sake of my sanity and our safety. Can we just…forget about it?"

It sounded less like a question and more like a plea. And on some level, she knew it was. Truth be told, she was still extremely unsettled by the events. Running her fingertip over the edge of her industrial piercing, Felicity looked down into her coffee and exhaled. Seeing the distress upon the face of the woman she loved like her sister, Caitlin ran her fingers through her streaked blue hair before reaching out to lace her fingers with Felicity, and leaned forward, whispering for the first time since they came into the coffee shop, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Felicity couldn't explain why but for some reason she was offended by that question. Her eyebrows pulled together as she looked up into Caitlin's face seeing genuine concern, the events of that night two weeks ago running through her mind.

" _You can relax Miss Smoak. If I wanted to hurt you…well, you'd be hurt," Mr. Queen said, gripping her by the elbow as he led her past the guards in the hallway through a door._

 _It was a penthouse, large, and open with floor to ceiling windows on one long stretch of wall that looked across the Starling City downtown scene right out into the bay. It was an indescribable view as compared to the cramped hallway Felicity looked at every night as she tossed and turned on her mother's couch._

 _` He gestured to a box that was sitting on the massive island in his kitchen. It was a brand new unopened laptop. Her heart beat faster just looking at it. She slipped out of her shoes, her feet were killing her and there was no way she was going to be able to get this done with her feet dying, before pulling herself up to sit atop the stylish barstool. Mr. Queen took the barstool across from her, sat down, and slid the thumb drive out of his pocket towards her. He didn't speak. And honestly, by this point, she really hadn't expected him to._

" _I'll be in the next room. When you're finished, call out."_

" _Wait…you're just going to, like, leave me here? You're not…"_

" _Your brother's life is at stake. I doubt you're going to do anything stupid."_

And he had been right. He had held all the power and he knew it. He carried that confidence about him. In that dismissive and disinterested attitude, back at the club when he had refused to speak English. In the strength of his shoulders, his jaw, and the steel of his eyes. Oliver Queen was strong, powerful, and extremely dangerous and even if she had been unsettled, nervous, or wary, she had never been afraid of him.

"No, no, he didn't hurt me," she whispered almost. And now that she had said it aloud, she was baffled by that very reality. "And thanks for being concerned but can we please, please, talk about something else?"

"…yeah, most definitely. So, how's the job hunt going?"

"Ugh…," she sighed dramatically. Glad for the subject change and resisting the urge to slam her head down on the table for emphasis, "Not so well," she sighed, resisting the urge to just drop her forehead to the table. She couldn't remember the last time it had been this hard just to find a job. In fact, Caitlin was paying for her coffee right now. The two had been best friends since junior high but relatively speaking it was Felicity who always had her ducks in a row. Even though Caitlin was highly intelligent, she had partied her way out of SCU and lost her scholarship. Her gap year had turned into never going back and now she worked at Poison- a skeevy nightclub on the waterfront that was known for being a debauched good time. It was like Verdant's sloppy drunk little sister.

"I've put in a ton of applications at a ton of different places and haven't even gotten so much as a nibble."

"Well…look, I know it's not really your scene-."

"No," Felicity interrupted, throwing up her hand up. Not that her objection made a dent in the slightest as Caitlin just continued.

"But Poison is hiring and I talked to Max about it and he says we could do with some fresh blood."

"No, no way, absolutely not."

"Don't be so judgmental Felicity! Okay so maybe it isn't the most respectable thing in the world. But you need a job, like ASAP so you can get off your mom's couch. And do you even realize how many tips you can get with an ass that awesome? I'd kill for your ass! And at least, if you work at Poison, you can interview during the day while you make some cash. It won't be forever. Just until you get your feet off the ground. And it's not like you would be dancing. JoJo got knocked up so she had to quit. We just need a pretty and not pregnant bartender is all. I mean…you're nothing like me."

Guilt. It wasn't a secret that Felicity greatly disapproved of Caitlin stripping at Poison. Not when she had so much potential. Truth was that Felicity and Caitlin were two different sides of the same coin. While Felicity was convinced that all she had to offer to anybody was her brain, Caitlin was convinced all she had to offer to anybody was her body. And despite neither of those being true, it made a lot of sense to both women. It's probably why they were so close, faulty as it was they completed each other.

"Fine. I'll man the bar but make sure you tell Max that this is far, far, from permanent!"

From his spot a table or two behind Felicity Smoak and Caitlin Bradshaw, John Diggle who went by the nickname "Dig" winced over a sip of his black coffee at the thought of the quirky but amiable blonde he had been tasked with tailing over the past few weeks working at a skeevy dive like Poison. When Oliver had reached out to him, telling him that he needed someone who didn't look like Russian mob to watch Miss Smoak he had been entertained and intrigued. Firstly, because normally after things like this, Oliver would put the fear of God into someone and then disappear from their life forever.

As it was he had been following Felicity for three weeks. And her business with his employer had been concluded two weeks ago. So, he was a little bit confused as to why he was still following her. Normal work for Oliver usually consisted of busting a few heads, collecting a few debts, maybe playing liaison between the Russians and some of his old military contacts. A position which hadn't won him any favor with the Russians, as the Bratva could be pretty particular on who they did business with when it came to things like melanin per se. Oliver had defended him tooth and nail though, reminded his friends, family, and …co-workers that Dig had looked after the Russian prince after he had enlisted into the military at eighteen, saving his life on multiple occasions. Oliver had reminded him over and over that he loved Dig like a brother and trusted him unconditionally. And even if there were reservations within the organization, he doubted anybody would challenge Oliver.

It was well known that even though Tommy was Malcolm Merkulov's biological son, there was no one better suited to lead the organization when he stepped down than Oliver. He might be young but he was respected, feared, capable, and highly intelligent. Sadly, Tommy just wasn't that good. Oliver's time in the Army and in Russia with his maternal uncle Anatoly had shaped Oliver into someone strong, powerful, formidable, and dangerous. He was a strong leader any mafia soldier, captain, or lieutenant could put their faith in. In fact, Oliver's prowess, effectiveness, and attention span when it came to women was some of the many reasons why Dig was fascinated by the job he had been given. But hey, it paid the bills. And it was a pretty easy gig. He hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary so far. As the two women stood up to make their exit, Dig walked over to the tip jar on the counter and dropped a twenty in it for Lyla, the pretty barista, threw on his sunglasses and exited the coffee shop with a smile on his face. Easiest job ever.


	3. Chapter 3

He was good at it. One of the best at it. Maybe the best at it. But he did not particularly enjoy it. By now he had become rather indifferent to it. To do his job, Oliver had to let a piece of himself die. And over time he was unsure how much of him was left. Time spent both with the military and in Russia with his uncle had bred the former playboy until what he was today. And it was the darkest part of his self that came out in times like these. Times where a man hung before him from a ceiling in a warehouse down at the shipping yards. Very much alive but very much on the brink of death.

Tommy always stood a few feet away, angling his body so that both his brother and whomever he was interrogating was in his peripheral vision and not his direct line of sight.

Knowing that for Tommy to command any level of respect meant that he had to be present for these things was a part of their relationship which he never liked. Tommy would never have the stomach for something like this. The stomach to hold the knowledge on how, when, and where to inflict the most amount of physical, mental, and emotional pain on a person while keeping them alive, awake, and aware enough while you gathered intel. This was one of the reasons while Oliver was so feared and respected.

Oliver and a few of his chosen and most trusted inner circle had infiltrated Triad territory, killed the guards and personnel present, and strung up a Triad Lieutenant on heavy duty utilitarian chain from a metal beam so that the Russian Captain could go to work. It was a bold move. And it had paid off. As he examined this man's brutalized body, a faint and indiscernible feeling made its way across the recessed of his mind. He had lived through a very similar interrogative session. Slade and Anatoly both had said to him that to understand his portion of work, to be the best at it, he had to live through it. To know firsthand what could break a man. And he had the scars to prove it. With a practically indiscernible nod of his head and flick of his wrist, he ordered Nikolai and Alexi to pull the man down. Immediately his breathing began to regulate as he fell to his knees on the cold cement. And he met Oliver's eyes not with resolution but with resignation. This very next act would be merciful. Neither of them broke a sweat or flexed a muscle as with calm precision, he snapped the man's neck. The body falling to the ground with a solid thud. He looked across the room, gaze scanning over the dead bodies scattered around the open space.

"Burn it," he ordered.

Ten minutes later, as his motorcycle stopped at a red light under a bridge, he looked back behind over his shoulder to see an explosion rock the shipping yard. He turned and spared a rare smirk towards Slade, who was driving the truck carrying a shipping container they found back at the Triad warehouse. A shipping container whose ID number was missing from the cargo manifest. The Lieutenant he had killed pointed out the anomaly before warning them that the container's inner compartment was designed to explode if forcibly opened. What were the Triads transporting that they needed a shipping container with a high tech electronic lock on it? And more importantly, were they transporting it for themselves of for someone else? Slade had begged the question how he planned to open it. He didn't answer but he knew without a doubt that Tommy knew where he was headed.

The thumb drive she had recovered had been cargo manifests. They had known that the Triad were brazenly moving product through their shipping lanes. But with her assistance they had been able to pinpoint dates and times. Bursts of violence were trickling on the streets as the two organizations played each other tit for tat. But they were up to something and despite the various criminal elements running about Starling, everyone knew that Starling and a good chunk of the surrounding area was owned by the Russians or bore Russian blood ties. And Oliver had been doing this long enough to know that war between the two rival organizations was a matter of when and not if.

As the party came to an intersection, Tommy threw him a mock salute from the truck he, Alexi, and Nikolai were in before they all sped in their separate directions. He headed to his parent's house, pulling his motorcycle up the driveway right by the front door. His mother hated it but he wouldn't be long. Just a shower and a change of clothes before he headed over to Poison to pick up a certain blonde. No sense in waiting. When Dig had informed that Miss Smoak had taken a job bartending at Poison he couldn't help but to think that the girl would be out of place. A strip bar buried in The Glades, with slot machines scattered throughout and drunks bumbling about was a place well known throughout Starling City. Men from the wealthier side of town always came over to Poison when they were looking to slum it. The club was owned by Vince Fuller but his son Max managed the place. And they also paid a protection vig to the Russians. He didn't necessarily picture blonde, computer genius, Felicity Smoak decked out in barely no clothes flirting with rich pricks for tips. The thought had initially crossed his mind that she was way too good and classy for a place like that. Glancing down at his watch, a gift from Thea last year, he noted that it was past midnight. Not that it mattered, Oliver hadn't slept a full night in over five years. Anyway, he had a job to finish. Shower. Change. Pick up Miss Smoak. Coerce, or if necessary force, her to open the lock on the extra shipping container they had found. Find out what was in it. Report back to his stepfather. Miss Smoak's employment status and the state of Poison was irrelevant.

"I hate rich people," Felicity mumbled to herself. In a gold, backless halter crop top she had borrowed from Caitlin, a black leather mini shorts she had borrowed from her mother, and a pair of her own stylish black sneakers she had slipped into about an hour ago in place of her own blood red heels Felicity was once again questioning why she ever listened to her best friend. Max still made comments about her jumping on stage and she knew bringing up phrases like "workplace sexual harassment" would not help her case, the constant smell of stale booze and cigarette smoke and sweat left her head throbbing by the time she got off work and she believed she would never get used to it as Caitlin claimed, and she felt gross for flirting for tips. But the money was good. And she needed the money right now. She had to get her own place and get off her mother's couch.

Thankfully she did have time to go for interviews during the day. Not that her job hunt was going great, as she only had one interview so far and the position had gone to someone else. And to top it all off, tonight there was a group of guys from the city who were here for a bachelor party. They had been reminded her of the fact all night, along with throwing around cash and bragging about their various jobs in corporate finance. Even now, she was dreading returning to their table with drinks. Currently, one of the girls was giving the groom-to-be a lap dance and looking as if she'd rather be dying.

Wordlessly, she passed them their drinks before collecting the empty glasses. She had turned on her heel to walk away when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. She extracted herself from the dark haired albeit attractive but tipsy groomsmen and with a frown sweetly asked him to keep his hands to himself. He smiled.

"C'mon sweetheart, we're just trying to have a little fun. Why don't you dance for me," he asked with a charming and blinding smile.

"I don't dance," she told him for what felt like the hundredth time before deftly moving out of another attempt of his to grab her and maneuvering through the tables, booths, and lap dances. But before she could make it out of the bar an arm shout out from a corner and wrapped around her waist. _Ugh…not again_ , she thought. She smelt Max before she saw him. She rolled her eyes and from her peripheral vision she caught Candy giving a guy at the bar a lap dance. The red headed stripper shot her an apologetic look.

"You know, you could make a lot more money here. You got that whole sexy librarian, sexy secretary, sexy school girl thing going on. C'mon Lis, I could make it worth your while," he said stepping closer to her with a smile not unlike the guy she just served some more whiskey to. She and Caitlin had known Max since high school. Which is why she knew he was a piece of slime even at his most inner parts. Even now, she felt as if she needed a shower.

"Max, neither of those things are ever going to happen. Ever. _Ever_ ," she reiterated with her own smile, unprepared when Max stepped closer to her with a snarl of his lips replacing the cheesy smile.

"Lis this isn't high school anymore. You work for me now Felicity," he said sternly, grabbing her wrist and yanking her up against his body so that their hips collided with each other. He brought his other hand to touch the exposed skin of her stomach and her arm and her collarbone.

"What is that supposed to mean Max," she questioned bravely, eyes narrowing, and trying to ignore the feeling of his touch against her pebbled skin.

"It means…you follow directions Felicity," he said, his smile returning as he tilted her chin up in a twisted version of a romantic gesture.

Then, without thought of repercussions, Felicity yanked herself away, nearly falling with the attempt, "I quit!"

Max's face shifted into a nameless expression, blotches of red peeking through the open collar of his shirt and migrating to his face but as he opened his mouth his eyes fixated on something behind Felicity. She frowned and feeling a solid wall of muscle collide into her back tilted her neck to look behind her into a pair of steely blue eyes. She gulped. His jaw was clenched and the last five minutes of her life hit her with a headiness that left her momentarily dizzy. Her knees buckled and he caught her with an arm around her waist, pulling her to his side much like the night weeks ago when he had kissed her and led her out of Verdant the night he and his brother had traded Roy's life for her hacking services.

"Max, I hope I am not interrupting."

"Uh…no, no, of course not Oliver- Mr. Queen," Max offered, throwing his hands in his pocket but eyes narrowing at the arm the mobster had wrapped around Felicity's bare waist.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to borrow Miss Smoak."

Felicity's own eyes widened and she scanned the room for Caitlin who was standing at the bar with Candy, topless wearing a pair of pasties and boy shorts and staring a burning hole into Felicity. Confusion and anxiety had Felicity flushed and in her need to ground herself she clutched Oliver's dark blue suit. The action, coupled with his arm still around her waist, looked intimately familiar. And with an examining speck in her eye, Caitlin looked from Mr. Queen's shoes up to his tailored suit stretched across a well-built form and broad shoulders to a face that belonged on either a screen or a billboard ad. She couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at Felicity tucked into his side, his arm around her waist, her hand clutching his suit jacket. She watched Max and Mr. Queen exchange words before Felicity walked towards the back, Mr. Queen behind her.

"Wasn't that Oliver Queen," Candy asked Caitlin, looking just as confused as Caitlin felt.

"Yep."

"Wow. You better tell your friend to be careful."

"What'd you mean," Caitlin asked, snapping her head in Candy's direction so hard she felt a twinge in her neck.

"Caitlin…don't you pay attention to anything? Don't you know why none of the Russian guys never pay for anything?"

"Um…because they're scary as fuck? And pretty much own the Glades?"

"Well yeah but what that means is that Max pays a fee to the Russians once a month. In the four years I've been working here, I can count on one hand the times I've seen Oliver Queen come himself to collect anything. And I've never seen him head to the back with a girl before," she informed Caitlin slowly.

Knowing that she had to keep Felicity's encounter with the Russians a secret, Caitlin opted to question Max as he stopped at the bar. Grabbing Candy by the end of her elbow, she dragged her along, ignoring the fact that she was teetering on her heels. Just as Max reached for the bottle Stacy handed him from behind the bar she snatched it out of his reach.

"What the hell did you do to Felicity?"

"I didn't do shit to Felicity. The little bitch just quit. And why didn't you tell me that your best friend was fucking around with Oliver Queen?"

"What? I know you pay a vig to the Russians Max! Did you just offer up Felicity to cover your own ass?" Caitlin asked, crossing her arms over her naked chest.

"Don't any of you dumb bitches listen?! She just quit! I didn't make her do anything, she left with him. Apparently the know each other," he yelled, taking his bottle of whiskey back, opening it, and chugging a swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and fished a cigarette out from his back pocket, "And by the fucking way, you're fucking fired Caitlin."

Caitlin rolled her eyes, as this was about the fourth time that Max had fired her. Instead of starting a shouting match with her intoxicated skeeve of a boss, Caitlin directed her attention down the hallway where her best friend had disappeared with Oliver Queen. Felicity had said there was no reason to be worried but despite how intelligent she was, Felicity could be clueless when it came to men. Instead she leaned against the wall, occasionally throwing glances towards the back room they had entered, wondering what the hell her best friend had gotten herself into.

Meanwhile, in a small room which was used for lap dances, the occasional trick turning, and drug buys, Felicity never felt more exposed. She crossed her arms under her breast and over her stomach, nearly shrinking into herself to hide all the skin that was on display. Still she didn't know whether to be grateful or insulted that Mr. Queen didn't even bother to look at her.

"Ms. Smoak," Oliver began, regally taking a seat on a piece of cheap furniture and pulling out his phone as if this was the last place he'd like to be and the last person he'd like to be speaking to, "I have recently acquired something that needs to be opened. Problem is it has a high tech electronic lock rigged to explode if forcibly opened and I have yet to find someone who can match the particular skill set of my previous employee or you. So, I need you to come with me and open it."

"Um…what? No, I'm working-."

"Did you not just quit?"

"Yes but, like, that's irrelevant. I mean, with all due respect, so I was prepared to do a lot last time. Like a lot. And I think you know what I mean, even though you're barely acknowledging me right now, like you can't look a girl in the eye while you ask her to commit a crime? But I thought my brother was out of the woods? I mean, it's been like over two weeks and he's alive. And don't get me wrong, I want him to stay alive, but like is there not…ya' know, anybody else?"

He focused his eyes on her, dragging his piercing gaze from the bottom of her sneakers to the top of her head before standing from the furniture. Stepping towards her, he damn near towered over her. With the same cool confident air of indifference, the same he had possessed when she had first been introduced him, he stalked her. She didn't even realize that was what he was doing until the goose pimpled flesh of her back slammed right up against the wall and she let out a tiny shriek of surprise.

"Ms. Smoak, I'm not sure you quite understand the situation. This isn't normally how I do things?"

"Well, wh-wha-what do you mean?"

"Normally, I do not have to repeat myself."

Gulping, she acquiesced. Heat spilling across her face and her chest as he stepped away from her and moved towards the door. Hands on the doorknob he turned back to face her, she was still standing by the wall, arms curled in on herself.

"Are you coming Miss Smoak?"

Her head snapped up, remembering the last time she had heard that phrase. He had been the one to say it. And oddly enough she felt a small tingle begin at the base of her spine, move towards a flutter in her belly, before ending as a pounding in her chest. She couldn't say if it was because the last time he asked her that before leading her out of the room he had kissed her or because she was praying to anyone who would listen that he would find someone else to break technologically volatile locks on "recently acquired packages". She moved towards him and the door, noting that he had opened it slightly and it was ajar. She could hear raucous laughter and bad music creeping up on her. Stopping her at the door frame he threw his arm around her waist, yanking her to him, and kissed her.

This time all she could think was _really?_ Her eyes didn't close this time automatically and she made a move to pull herself away from him but he his grip on her tightened around his waist and he brought his other hand up to the back of her head pulling his lips away from her just enough so he could whisper, "Close your eyes, people are watching us." Resisting the urge to frown she managed to peak around him long enough to see Caitlin and Max camped out at the entrance of the hallway while a few coworkers and a few customers strutted up and down the narrow corridor. Realizing now that these kisses were a façade and nothing more, she obeyed and closed her eyes before leaning into Oliver. The tingle at her spine, the flutter in her stomach, and the pounding in her chest didn't stop. When he pulled away, they were both breathing hard. Her eyes were wide with panic but his were indecipherable. Along her waistline, she felt his thumb twitch against the small of her back.

"Grab your stuff, let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

With Mr. Queen's hand gripped at the bend of her elbow, pulling her along with no regard to the fact that she was stumbling trying to keep up with him. Feet fumbled over each other almost as bad as nervous words did. All it had taken was a calculating stare from his steel eyes to silence her adrenaline induced babbling. They were somewhere near the docks or in the Glades, she wasn't exactly sure. She had been too focused on the fact that he had kissed her and then forced her onto the back of his motorcycle to pay attention to where he was going. Her survivor instinct definitely needed an update.

Her head spun around to peer at her surroundings. She locked her eyes on him as he smoothed the wrinkles in his suit from the motorcycle ride. He stood with his feet apart, hands clasped behind him, shoulders back, and jaw locked. She thought she had read somewhere that he had been a soldier. Not that she could remember. Right now, she was way too concerned with the fact that they were standing in an open lot. Alone. In the dark.

"What's going on," she mumbled.

How stupid could she be? Why was she not running? She was confident that she would not make it very far but any ounce of self-preservation that she had told her she should at least try. Instead, she stood her shaky ground and was asking the mobster what his plans were. Now that he had her alone. In the dark.

Though his face was blank, there was a smirk he was hiding from the obviously terrified blonde. For someone who was supposedly a genius, she had to know that if he was going to kill her he wouldn't have picked her up from work and been easily identified as the last person she had been seen with. For someone who was supposedly a genius, she had to know that if he was going to kill her she should at least scream or run. Not just stand there. She had clung to him from the back of his bike, petite tight body molding against his back as he leaned into the curves, bobbed and weaved out of lanes at high speeds. Suppressing his intrigue, Oliver meticulously straightened the wrinkles in his suit before speaking.

"Miss Smoak, I hate to do this but the situation demands it."

"Oh God, look if you're going to kill me-," she began pleading, lifting her hands in a notion of surrender, eyes widening as he approached. But before she could finish, he had somehow looped his arm around her neck. As her body went limp, Oliver couldn't contain his smirk anymore and let out a low rumbling chuckle before lifting the blonde over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

As he approached a hidden door, Diggle emerged from the darkness with his arms crossed over his chest. He eyed the scantily clad bartender draped across his friend and employer's shoulders, her slim and shapely legs on display. Under the pretense of rolling his eyes, he surveyed the area. They were strictly in Russian territory but with things heating up with the Triad, being more than careful wouldn't hurt.

"Ya' know, that's going to leave a nasty bruise on Felicity's neck."

"It's worse than being dead, right," he asked sarcastically, moving into the doorway and down the dimly lit stairs.

"Well, I would be concerned if I actually thought you were going to kill her."

At the bottom of the stairs, Oliver turned to face his friend, one arm grasped tightly around Felicity's legs right underneath her butt. His trigger finger itched and he shoved his hand into the pocket of his pants.

"What are you saying Digg?"

"I'm saying this is beginning to look a bit more involved. With things drastically heating up with The Triad, what's your game plan Oliver concerning this girl?"

"Right now, Miss Smoak is of use to me. And I will handle the rest," he informed the other man, jaw clenched tight before turning and walking away, leaving Dig on the stairs with the distinct feeling that this would not end well.

When Felicity came to she was acutely aware of two things. Her neck hurt. And she had a headache. Unceremoniously, a bottle of water and two indistinct white pills were thrust into her face. Looking up into the bright fluorescent lighting, Felicity narrowed her eyes before sitting up, wincing, and looking around the room. It was a large space, with bright lights. They were underground somewhere. As the last memories surfaced through her brain, she frantically began running her hands across her body. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding upon confirming that she was still in the same hideous crop top and shorts she had been wearing _before_ Oliver Queen rendered her unconscious. However, with that relief came a certain amount of justifiable rage. Dry eyes narrowing at the sight in the corner she sprung up from the couch, only to have strong arms wrap around her when she stumbled.

"Calm down, catch your breath. It takes a minute to recover after that creepy neck incapacitating thing he does," came the soothing rumble from the tall and attractive black man standing in front of her.

Flushed and taking long deep breaths, her brow furrowed in a quizzical expression before she gestured wildly, "Don't I know you?" At a rapid pace her brain begin to filter through images like an electronic server before she began snapping her fingers as it came to her, "You were in the coffee shop that one day! Have you been following me?!" He had the decency to look ashamed. Hands on his hips, he looked down at this feet before holding her gaze again. When she realized that he wasn't going to reply she directed her fury at the source of her problem. Oliver, Mr. Queen, her kidnapper, whatever was currently sitting at a table with a group of men playing cards and drinking, laughing. Well, halfheartedly laughing but laughing nonetheless. Wait a second- he was laughing? Laughing after he knocked her unconscious and dragged her to God knows where? Without missing a beat, she shoved past the tall stalker and marched towards his table without any regard whatsoever for the six or seven heavily armed mobsters keeping him company.

"You kidnapped me!"

"Kidnap's a strong word," said one of the guys sitting at the table, scratching his beard with a slight smirk on his face. He wore an eye patch and was big and burly.

"Ms. Smoak," Oliver began, standing up from his spot at the table and approaching her, "if I recall correctly, you willingly came with me."

"That was before you knocked me unconscious and dragged me to some creepy warehouse space underground! I'm not an idiot okay? Don't let the blonde hair fool you because I dye it! What the hell do you and your merry band of mobsters want from me anyway? And why are you having me followed? And-," before she could continue ranting, he rushed her, wrapping an arm around her waist and placing his hand over her mouth.

"Miss Smoak, listen carefully because I do not like to repeat myself, stop talking and just listen. Now, I trust your ability to open this," he nodded towards the large metal shipping crate she had just noticed standing in the center of the room as if belonged there, "I trust your desire to keep your brother and your mother and your best friend alive. And the only way they remain alive is if you do what you are told. However, I have known many individuals in your situation who have done something incredibly stupid. Not knowing where we are or how you got here, therefore necessitating the kidnapping as you so call it, tends to help curb some of that stupidity. Do you understand?"

It wasn't until she nodded her affirmation the he removed his hand from her mouth.

"So, this is how you normally do things."

"No, not at all. Normally you and your brother would have been long dead by now. But like I told you already, I have need of you Miss Smoak."

Felicity closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay. She would have never been able to predict the turn of events that dressing up and going to Verdant had led to. Once again, she reminded herself not to be beguiled by how many times he kissed her or how attractive he was. This man was dangerous. And she was in an increasingly precarious situation. Even now she was utterly convinced that she would not leave this experience, this experience of knowing him, unscarred. However, she was also beginning to realize that the scars she would leave with would be far from the physical kind. At the back of her mind she wondered, wondered if she was living on borrowed time. She needed an escape plan, some way to get herself and her family out of this mess and preferably out of Starling City. But she also had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Queen was one, if not ten, steps ahead of her. Knowing that in this very moment, with him and his little Russian death squad at his back, she had a greater probability of getting home alive and in one piece if she simply stopped asking questions and cooperated.

"Fine, Mr. Queen. I am deeply indebted to you for sparing my brother's life," she began, crossing her arms over her chest, "so I will do my best to open this obviously stolen cargo crate."

"Ooh, I like this one," the big burly man with the eye patch called out before slamming down whatever liquor was in his shot glass, "pleasure to meet you Felicity! I have to say, we've all been waiting to meet you ever since we heard about the tiny blonde computer nerd who bartered for her brother's life."

Oliver looked at Slade from over his shoulder with half a smile before saying something in Russian that had the whole table erupting in laughter. As Felicity made her way to the crude tech station set up in another corner, with multiple desktops and servers sat up, Oliver locked eyes with Dig. His friend, and employee, was standing there smirking with his hands crossed over his chest. His eyes were challenging, as if he was trying to ask Oliver who he was trying to fool.

Tommy and Oliver both had a ridiculous habit of wanting to keep her out of the family business. Which of course was futile because Thea had a ridiculous habit of finding her way into the family business. Which is how she knew that the sister of the pretty little gangbanger who had robbed her had found herself in the service of her older brother. She could only imagine who equally miserable and terrifying that experience was.

When they were kids, Tommy and Oliver had been carefree party playboys. She had heard the adjustment was rough on her eldest brother through various family stories but those had occurred before she was born. Oliver was Russian on his mother's side. Moira Queen-Merkulov had been born Maria Knyazeva but after coming to the United States for college started going by Moira. At 21 she met and married Robert Queen, a Starling City blue-blood who came from old money but had dreams of doing everything better and grander than his ancestral predecessors before him. His family had not been a fan of the private and tight lipped Russian immigrant and had tried to convince him of taking preemptive measures with his finances and their legacy. He hadn't listened. Subsequently when he died in a tragic boat accident, leaving behind his wife and young seven-year-old son, Moira had received everything.

She never knew exactly how it went down and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know, even though she suspected her uncle and maternal grandfather had something to do with it. All she knew for certain was that a year later her mother had married Malcom Merkulov. A widower with a young son a year younger than Moira's own. He was also a wealthy Starling City businessman, the CEO of Merlyn Industries, whom everyone knew but simply couldn't prove was a major player at the top of the food chain of the Russian mob scene. And two years later, Moira gave birth to Thea. As such Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Industries (Merlyn because her father claimed the name Merkulov didn't carry a mass appeal) merged together to become Merlyn & Queen Incorporated.

Her family did a remarkable job of keeping both their business separate. One might worry how her father and her brothers managed to juggle family business, company executive business, Bratva business, and in addition to her brother's Verdant business but she knew that they didn't have a choice at all. She knew her parents expected her to go to college, get an MBA, help run the legit side of their family enterprises, marry someone Russian, and perpetuate the cycle, but honestly, she was just seventeen and her family legacy was the least of her worries.

Besides, she had seen what it had done to her brothers. Turned the fun, jovial young boys into grim, hard men. Even more so in Oliver's case. To this day, she had no idea what had been said between her parents and her brothers but Tommy had stayed behind to learn from their father while Oliver had joined the military and then been sent off to Russia. She now knew what they had intended, for Tommy to be the head and for Oliver to be the fist. For Tommy to be the one everyone knew and for Oliver to be the one everyone feared. Somehow or another only part of that plan had worked out. Not that she should really be surprised. Oliver had always been smart, even when he was too drunk or high to act like it. Now Oliver was the one everyone knew, feared, and respected. And Tommy, though he had spent all that time learning from Malcolm just didn't have the knack for business- both legal and otherwise.

Deep down, Thea knew what they were trying to do. Trying to keep her seventeen for just a little while longer. But she was a Merkulov and that ship had already sailed. It was why she made it her business to know what they were trying to keep from her. She always wanted to be prepared. Which was why she was waiting in Oliver's bedroom with a cup of coffee and one of those breakfast pastries Raisa baked every morning when he stormed in wearing a suit from the night before.

"Late night big brother?"

"Damnit Thea, don't you have school?"

"What? No good morning? I mean, I've been worried about you. I haven't seen you at the mansion in days-."

"I've been staying at the penthouse."

"Ollie," she said rolling her eyes, biting off a chunk of her pastry, "I've got two more guys on my security detail this morning. Are you going to give me that bullshit line about me not worrying?"

"I have everything under control," he said, tossing his suit jacket on an arm chair across the room, "and don't even think about ditching your security team today," he told her, pointing at her sharply.

"I won't. Scouts honor," she pledged, approaching him slowly and giving him a look that let him know she was about to ask for something, "As long as you tell me what's going on with the sister of the guy who robbed me."

He sighed. Though Thea was ten years younger than him, they were close. And their relationship had shifted after his time in both the military and in Russia. They didn't laugh with each other as much but she knew he loved her and was determined to keep her safe and do anything for her. Which was probably why her interest was piqued by the petite blonde. In fact, it was Thea who had asked him not to kill the pretty little gangbanger who had robbed her. He had no interest in heeding her request and she damn well knew it but in her own words, she thought she'd ask anyway. And contrary to what Dig thought, not killing Miss Smoak or her brother had more to do with good business than anything. But right now, he didn't feel the need to explain himself.

"Thea…"

"I know, I know, I know you don't want to talk to me about business. But I'm not an idiot. I know something's up with the Triad and I just…"

"Everything's fine Thea. You should get ready for school."

"Fine let me know if you need anything," she responded, making her way towards the door before he stopped her.

"Actually, could I borrow some of your clothes?"


End file.
